Cliques Collide (ON HOLD)
by ehtehkuh
Summary: Smosh Games high school AU! What happens when the nerdy, the popular, and the "too-cool-for-school" collide? Ianthony, Marhinki, and Jovencorn. Apologies to those who don't ship these ships. ON HOLD.


**A/N: Hey, everyone! This is the start- OF SOMETHING NEW! IT FEELS SO RIGHT TO BE HERE WITH YOU! OH~**

**You might be wondering what that random song was. Well, let me inform you: it was a song from ****_High School Musical._**

**Now, you might be wondering why I typed out some lyrics of a song from ****_High School Musical_****. Well, the answer is obvious to that one. This ****is**** an AU Smosh Games high school fan fiction. *pathetic rim-shot***

**What? You didn't find that humorous in any way, whatsoever? Psh, whatevers.**

**Here's your gosh-darn fanfiction.**

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><p><strong>Third person POV<strong>

Redwood High School looks like any stereotypical public school. The ugly walls are lined with rusted lockers, the tops of them covered with dust no one bothered to try to reach and clean. The hallways' floors are bumpy from the thousands and thousands of feet that had stomped on them. The walls are dented from the few victims who get shoved and kicked around. The classrooms are full of tables with uneven legs and chairs with broken backs. The cafeteria is bio-hazardous, spoiled food still treading around on the ground. The courtyard is a canvas for graffiti artists, covered with crude writings of inappropriate words. The restrooms are open for use, but no one dares to enter them; the thought of using them unfathomable. There are many cringe-worthy stories about the restrooms that every student knows, such as the _Tale of the Terrible Toilets_, and the _Myth of Melvin's Misfortune_.

Enroll as a student, and you'll experience a stereotypical high-schooler's experience. Most of the teachers will seem like inexperienced buffoons who just tell you turn to so-and-so textbook pages, barely meeting the district's curriculum standards. P.E. will be lead by an obese drill sergeant with irrationally high expectations. Hallways will be impossible to navigate, waves of people moving to and fro. There will be times where you intend to go to one location in the school, and a swarm of people will somehow drag you somehow to a place on the complete opposite side of campus. The cafeteria food is god-awful; you'll believe the rumors that school lunches are cat food items with new labels smacked on to them

The students are like any other you'll find. Their intelligence ranges from human calculators to tumbleweeds with a beanie and everything in between. There are those who'd qualify for the NBA and those who could pass for Oompa-Loompas.

There are cliques. Separate groups of students. The jocks, the jerks, the jovial. The poor, the preppy, the popular. The geeks, the goths, the ghetto. Those who find care about lumps in their mascara and those who don't care anymore. Those who look for a fight and those who hope that today will be the day they won't get touched. Those who

Despite it never being mentioned, every student knows the golden rule: The cliques mustn't ever intermingle. They are meant to be separate.

And the groups have always stayed separate.

Most of the time.

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><p><strong>Anthony's POV<strong>

I woke up, completely prepared for the school day. I didn't need an alarm clock; I learned how to wake myself up on time.

I sprang out of bed, ready for action. I unplugged my Samsung Galaxy, which was previously charging peacefully on my bedside counter.

_6:35_, I read. _A little later than usual, but still good_.

I turned to my left and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was immaculate, despite the fact that I roll around in my sleep. I smiled, happy that I was blessed with my fortune, my great life.

I moved over to my personal bathroom and entered it. My toes curled, gripping cold marble. I quickly brushed my teeth and rinsed them out afterwards with Listerine.

I strut over to my closet and grandly flung open the double doors. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, the fumes of my walk-in closet intoxicating. The fragrance of my brand-name clothes drew me in.

I changed my clothes quickly and ambled confidently out of the closet, heading towards the door.

Opening the door, I absorbed the sight before me. The walls were painted the milk chocolate, complimenting the shine of the white marble floor a story below. Floral decorations along with elegant vases and china were placed in locations that boosted the house's interior design. The sun shone brightly through the humongous windows near the entrance of my house. I walked towards the stairs and gripped the banister, feeling the wood that had been smoothed over the years due to me sliding on them daily. Staying true to tradition, I sat down on the rail and rode it downstairs. I landed gracefully on my feet upon landing.

Still joyful, I strolled into the kitchen and met eyes with my mother. She was wearing a frilly apron over her executive-like pantsuit. In her hand was a frying pan with sizzling bacon laying on top of it. In front of her was several plates, each plate holding a different food item. She quickly slid the bacon on to the only empty dish and welcomed me in. However, I was completely phased, the sight of the delicacies causing my gaze to fix and mouth to water.

"Anthony? Aren't you gonna' sit down and eat?" she asked.

I broke out of my trance and grinned greatly. "Of course!" I replied.

I quickly grabbed a plate from one of our cabinets along with standard eating utensils. Then, I sat down by the buffet and started packing food onto my plate. Pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, you name it! The first thing that entered my mouth was a forkful of hash-browns. As soon as the heavenly potatoes met my taste buds, I felt a great sensation on my tongue. I groaned in delight, the pan-fried delight was absolutely delicious.

"So I see you like the food!" my mom stated while chuckling.

I scoffed. "Like it? Mom, don't underrate yourself! I love it!"

My mom blushed. "Thanks, hun," she said, bending over the table to peck my forehead. I gladly accepted the kiss.

My mom has to one of the most amazing people in the world, if not the most amazing. She's done literally everything for me since she and my dad got divorced, and, might I say, looks fabulous doing so. We have a really close relationship for a mother and son, and people who know the both of us say we're a lot alike.

"Man, mom-" I uttered between bites. "I don't understand how you're single."

"Stop it, Anthony!" she said, playfully pushing me.

Man, I just felt really good that day.

But, I feel like that most days.

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><p><strong>Mari Takahashi's POV<strong>

A hand grabbed my shoulder and shook me around with a lots of force. But, with a quick flop on to my stomach, I broke free of the hand's grip. Grumbling, I rolled around my bed.

"Mari! You're gonna' be late!" Of course, I was much too tired to be have been able to decipher the message.

I flipped around so I was laying on my back once again. My eyes slowly fluttered open, my blurry vision slowly focusing. Once focused, I saw my petite mother, for the first time in forever, towering over me. I was quite cozy under my several blankets, not really feeling like getting up.

"Wha'?" I asked, barely conscious.

"Get up!" she barked. "Your alarm never rang!"

I propped myself onto my elbows lazily so I could get a good look at the Dalek that sat across my room. See, the small, ten-inch Dalek serves as my alarm clock, daily hollering, "Exterminate!" annoying to wake me up. However, I was not awaken that day by the dreaded cry of the Dalek. Upon this realization, I threw up my blankets and rushed to the bathroom, not bothering to even check what time it was despite the fact that the Dalek projects the time onto the ceiling.

I almost slipped as soon as my foot hit the bathroom floor. Luckily, I had managed to grab onto the edge of the bathroom counter and stabilize myself. Not taking a moment to sigh in alleviation, I quickly turned on the sink, cupping as much of the running water as I could in my small hands. I then splashed the water against my face, feeling the liquid trickle down my face cleansing my crusty eyes. Once refreshed, I grabbed my toothpaste tube and hastily squeezed some toothpaste on to my toothbrush, getting some toothpaste on the counter-top, and started brushing my teeth. At the same time, I reached over to my left, grabbed a hairbrush and started brushing my hair furiously.

To those who say you can't multitask: Phooey.

After achieving both tasks, I grabbed my make-up bag, quickly unzipping it. I was about to start putting on my foundation, but, for the sake of time, I decided just to take the bag and do my make-up in the car. I shoved the foundation back in the bag and zipped it up. Then, I grabbed my make-up and rushed to my room and hurriedly put on clothing. My yellow cardigan, floral blouse and black skirt.

Successfully doing so, I ran outside, my backpack lazily slung on one shoulder and my make-up bag in hand, clasped on to tightly. I burst through the front entrance and rushed to my mom's car, which was initiated and ready to go. I flung open the car door exaggeratedly, plopped myself on to the passenger's seat and closed the door. Breathing heavily, I nodded weakly when my mother asked me whether or not I was ready to go.

Once we started going, I finally checked what time it was.

"Seven-thirty?!" I exclaimed. My mother jumped in her seat, gasping. Then, she glared at me in anger.

"I could've hit a car!" she yelled.

Of course, mother. One must take proper precautions in order to prevent a car crash while backing out of a driveway. I apologize. My bad.

Anyway, I knew school was a good ten minutes away from our house, so I urged my mom to drive quickly and have myself arrive earlier. But, due to the fact that my mom feels the need to fulfill all of the world's Asian stereotypes, she was driving at the pace of a turtle. Yet, she had the temper of an ox, hollering at me to shut up. I immediately quieted and began scooting myself as far away from her as possible.

(Even though she's a bit of a bad driver, she's not the worst in the family. I hadn't even passed my driving test yet. I guess this means we really are mother & daughter.)

While she was driving, I grabbed my make-up bag and opened it, mindlessly grabbing a handful of cosmetics. I then flipped down the car visor so I could look at myself in its mirror. Frantically, I started caking make-up on to my face.

It's days like this when I wonder why I do this kind of stuff. I mean, I don't want to wear make-up. I don't want to please anybody. But, then I remember: you do want to please everybody. Otherwise, you will get hurt.

If there's anything I've learned from Mami, it's that.

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><p><strong>Matt Sohinki's POV<strong>

_Beep. Beep._

I groaned, rolling over and continuing to sleep on my other side.

_Beep! Beep!_

I slowly fluttered my eyes open. Then, I leaned over to my side and grabbed my phone. I wanted to sleep, but I knew that the beeping would only get louder the longer I let it go on.

See, I downloaded this alarm clock app that required me to craft an item from my favorite video game, _Dota 2_, in order to turn it off. I read the screen with squinted eyes.

_Craft the Scythe of Vyse._

I chuckled at the simplicity of this task. I tapped and dragged various objects that had appeared on my screen to a box to "craft" the Scythe of Vyse.

_Well done_. These words drifted on to my screen in fiery font. At the same time, the beeping stopped. I sat up, letting my legs swinging on the right side of my bed. I glanced at the time shown at the top of the screen.

"6:30," I read aloud. I turned my head around, looking longingly at my comfy bed.

_Should I?_ I asked myself. _I want to, but... Will there be enough time? _I chewed on my bottom lip, thinking hard.

After a few more moments of contemplation, I decided to not go back to sleep. Time was of the essence, and if I went back to sleep, it would be nearly impossible to wake up in time for school.

I heaved myself out of bed, using the bed frame above me to help. I walked over to my dresser and peered at the open clothes drawer, which I never close. Bending over, I grabbed a pair of faded jeans and a holey crew-neck. I slowly stripped and put on those clothes and a pair of socks.

I shuffled over to my full body mirror and recoiled in disgust. I couldn't bare the sight of myself. My hair was an utter mess, emulating a bird's nest, or the after-effects of a tornado. My face was beyond help, for nothing could possible fix my bulging eyes. Or my big nose. Or the disgusting zit that plagued my forehead. Well, at least the zit detracted attention from my other disgusting features...

What I hated most of all was how my clothes barely clung onto my body. The jeans dragged along the floor and were starting to come apart at the bottom. I tucked the crew neck into my jeans in order to keep them up. Speaking of the crew neck, its sleeves had to be rolled up. Otherwise, they'd extend past my hands. I sighed in disappointment. _I hate hand-me-downs..._ I thought glumly.

I reached over for my leather hoodie and put it on; I wear it everyday, despite living in California. While zipping it up, a ping of satisfaction hit me. I smiled a little. _At least one thing is mine..._ I thought.

I quickly brushed my teeth in the bathroom. In a slightly happy mood, I strolled out into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast.

Upon arrival, I opened one of many cabinets and grabbed a box of good ol' corn flakes. I then walked over to the fridge to grab myself some milk. Because of this, I noticed a sticky-note clinging on the handle.

_Dear Matt,  
><em>_Dad and I are out. We're helping Jon with his interview. Hopefully he's accepted!_

_Sincerely,  
>Mom<em>

In anger, I grabbed the note off of the fridge handle and dug my fingertips into it, crumpling it up. I was about to do something more, but stopped myself. I let the note drop on to the ground.

_What are you doing, Sohinki?_ I asked myself. I smacked my forehead with the palm of my free hand. I then took some deep breaths. I felt the anger drip down my body and puddle around my feet.

Once calm, I opened the fridge and pulled out the milk. I continued to fix myself a bowl of cereal, accidentally spilling some milk on to the counter.

_Jon wouldn't have spilled anything_, a voice inside of me thought.

The corners of my mouth dropped a millimeter.

Thoughts like that... They'd probably seem silly to any other person. But, me... It just hit the wrong chord with me.

* * *

><p><strong>Joshua Ovenshire's POV<strong>

"Sweetie, time to wake up."

I opened my eyes, vision blurred extremely. I reached my hand over to the upside-down cardboard box beside that served as a counter, grabbing my glasses and carefully, yet quickly, putting them on. With a few blinks, I had crystal-clear vision. I slowly sat up on the lumpy, tattered sofa, twisting my back left and right, carefully listening to the cracking noises. Once satisfied, I stood up and hobbled towards the bathroom. The bottoms of my feet were scratched by sand-papery carpet.

I enter the dingy bathroom and flicked the lights on. The light flickered a bit, but then blew out. I sighed, but just accepted the misfortune. At least there was a window that provided sunlight for me. I continued hobbling to the sink counter-top. Dry toothpaste and phlegm crusted over the top of the counter. Still, I remain emotionless as I grabbed for my tube of tooth paste, tooth, and started brushing my teeth. Years of living in conditions like this didn't make me okay with the dirt, mold and grime, for I was still disgusted. It just made me able to tolerate my disgust more.

After brushing my teeth, I walked to the kitchen, taking longer strides than before. The kitchen consisted of two _Little Tikes_ table standing on a peeling tile floor. A bucket that held my family's garbage overflowed and stank horribly. Food was served on _Dixie_ paper plates and beverages in the same brand's paper cups. The ceiling was crumbly, occasionally dropping some debris onto the floor that gets stuck between my toes as I walk barefoot around the house. We had an old-fashioned stove-top and rusted pots and pans.

I grabbed a ham & cheese Hot Pocket from my cooler, prepared it, and put it in the microwave. Setting the time to four minutes, I started the microwave. As the Hot Pocket was being heated, I walked over to my dad's room to see how he was doing.

I found the door to be ajar, so I peered through the crack as to not disturb him. _He's still there__..._ I thought disappointingly. My dad had bloodshot eyes and a scruffy mane. His eyes remained transfixed on our teeny television and its black-and-white images. Our TV was probably the most advanced piece of technology in our house aside from my cellphone. It took me years and a lot of hard work to accumulate enough money to buy my stupid flip-phone, and I still work several jobs.

I really wanted to stop. I wanted to pull him away from the screen. Slap some sense into him. But, deep down, I knew that the TV was the only thing that kept him sane, though some may argue that he was already insane. I knew that this was his way to cope. A strange way to cope, but still a way nonetheless. I sighed, accepting the misfortune.

Hearing a distant beeping indicating that the Hot Pocket was done, I sped to the kitchen. So eager to grab my food, I didn't notice my mom in the same room as me.

My hand on the handle of the microwave, I heard someone ask me, "How's it goin', Joshua?"

My hands dropped to my side. I quickly turned my head in the direction of the voice, finding my mom kneeling by our little tables, her elbows resting on the tables. Her hair was up in a messy bun and she was clothed in on our my dad's baggy shirts. A purple Sharpie was held in her right hand, and several newspapers were splayed on the tables.

"Um... Good," I replied, voice cracking. I was slowly reaching one of my hands to the microwave. I wanted to be respectful towards my mom, but... Ham and cheese...

"Good," she replied happily. She then returned to the newspapers. I quickly opened the microwave and retrieved my Hot Pocket. I took one huge bite, savoring the flavor. My tongue may have been burned, but my stomach was satisfied.

Consuming the Hot Pocket, I looked back at my mom. She was circling something on one of the newspapers.

"So... How's the search going?" I asked her, mouth full.

"Great! I think I found a job that will really suit me!" she proclaimed cheerily. I smiled back, but not for the reason she probably thought.

_Sure, mom! It's not like you've said the same thing about your previous million jobs!_ I rolled my eyes, still nibbling my Hot Pocket. A job that suited my mom? It was a joke to me.

I started wondering about how long someone could live with only instant food, cardboard boxes, and only one friend.

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><p><strong>David Moss' POV<strong>

"David. Up. Now," a low, gruff voice demanded.

I opened my eyes and saw my dad looking down upon me. I glared at him angrily as I sat up and pushed him out of my way as I stood up. As I walked out of my room, I heard my dad growl behind me. I smirked, delighted with my success.

I entered the bathroom, which was right next to my own room, and rinsed my mouth with some Listerine, taking no time to brush my teeth. I didn't feel the need to. Then, I returned to my room. I sleep in a long-sleeve shirt and boxers, so I simply took one of my video game t-shirts, some jeans, and socks from my closet and slipped them on. I grabbed my iPhone, shoved it in my pocket, and continued to the kitchen.

As I walked, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I stopped in my tracks and retrieved my phone, finding that my mom was calling me. I groaned, tired of her constant calling. I hesitantly tapped the 'answer' button. Holding the phone up to my ear, I rudely asked, "What?"

"David, I'm upset."

"Now what?" I asked. _Hm. The school's stepping up their game. I've been getting these kinds of calls more often_, I thought.

"Your school called me. The janitor found out about your stupid marble prank while on his morning run," she stated angrily. I felt disappointed in myself. _Stupid! I should've planned it better!_

Noticing my lack of replying, my mom asked, "David, are you still there?" She sounded a bit snarky.

I snapped back into reality. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Do you know what this means?" she asked. Before I could interject with a smart-alecky comment, she answered her own question. "You could be suspended! If you keep this up, maybe even expelled!" She sounded quite angry now.

I sneered. "So, what?" I asked confidently. "I get punished with days off from school? Let them suspend me." I felt like a bad ass saying that.

"David, after school, I'm coming to your dad's house and we're going to talk about-" I ended the conversation before she finished.

I put my phone in my pocket, shaking my head at my mother's lack of self-control, getting all psycho at me. I continued walking toward the living room, so I could wake Ian up.

Ian... I'm not sure if he's really my friend. He speaks occasionally; he's not really much of a talker. But, he's a good listener, so I decided to take him under my wing when he asked people if he could bum at their places. In addition, his life was shit; knowing Ian, he deserved better.

I arrived at the couch Ian slept at, but he was already up. He just kind of looked at me intensely, eyebrows furrowed. Suddenly, he just got up and walked toward the kitchen. Confused, I followed him anyway.

My kitchen is nice, as far as kitchens go. A nice, white tiled floor; black marble counters; lights hanging above people. It was a little small, but... Nice.

Ian sat down at the dining table on one of the stools with a wooden seat. I grabbed two bowls and some milk to prepare cereal for Ian and I. I had my favorite cereal, Cocoa Puffs. Hey, man; I'm mother-fucking cuckoo. Anyway, Ian had some corn flakes. He was always really weird about breakfast. He'll only eat corn flakes. One time, I tried to give him some Cinnamon Toast Crunch instead of corn flakes, and he pushed the bowl off of the table, creating a mess all over the floor. It pissed me off, but I didn't confront him about it. He had apologized, but not sincerely.

After done preparing the meals, I set both bowls along with spoons on the table. I then pulled up a seat next to Ian and both of us started eating.

I paused my devouring of the cereal. "So, Ian... Are the corn flakes good?" I asked.

Ian nodded his head up and down, not bothering to pause eating.

After a few minutes of eating, Ian suddenly just froze. I looked towards him, incredibly confused.

"Ian?"

He got up and started briskly walking. I got up and followed close behind.

"Ian! What's up with you?!" I inquired.

He abruptly stopped, causing me to almost crash into him. He kind of just turned around and looked at me, eyes watery. By now, I was confused out of my mind.

"Are... Are you mad?" he whispered.

I furrowed my eyebrows, boggled. "Mad? About what?"

Ian spent a moment to think. Afterwards, he pushed past me and returned to the kitchen.

_What the fuck just happened?_ I asked myself.

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><p><strong>Ian Hecox' POV<strong>

I woke up to the sound of David arguing with his mom again. I can't call David a bad guy, since he did take me into his home, but... Sometimes, he's just such a bastard to his mom.

As he was arguing, his dad walked into the living room. Mr. Moss looked like he was trying to listen to the conversation. He cringed at Daivd's caustic comments. He sighed in disappointment. He then looked over to me, his disappointed expression meeting my own disappointed expression. Mr. Moss usually doesn't interact with me, but, in that moment, we connected.

As Mr. Moss left, David walked into the living room. I took the opportunity to try to communicate my thoughts. I looked at him dirtily, trying to express my disappointment. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to understand my thoughts. I gave up on him and just walked to the kitchen.

I shuffled my feet along the tiled floor, feeling the little gaps between the tiles. I grabbed my favorite stool and pulled it up to the dining table. My legs swung back and forth. I sat on the stool and patiently waited for my food, thinking about David at the same time.

I know he's not a good kid. He always gets in trouble, constantly pulling pranks and vandalizing school property. He's mean to many, getting in tons of fights and receiving many mean looks as he walks down the hall. I don't know this for a fact, but I'm pretty sure he's flunking all of his classes. Yet... I can't dislike him. When no one accepted me, he took me in. He let me live in his house. For that, I'm eternally grateful.

David gave me my corn flakes and I started munching them. I imagine I looked like a robot, repeating the same emotionless motions over and over again. David gobbled his cereal with aggression, but I remained null.

Taking my first bite, David asked me, "So, Ian... Are the corn flakes good?"

I nodded my head up and down. _They always taste the same_, I thought.

At some point, I stubbed my toe against something; to this day, I'm still not sure what. In pain, I exclaimed a long string of cuss words.

"Fucking son-of-a-bitch, David! That hurt!"

I quickly froze. The words finally caught up to me. I didn't mean to direct the words at David... It just kinda' happened.

"Ian?" I heard David ask. _Shit_, I thought. _He's mad_. My eyes started watering and I started briskly walking. I heard the heavy stomps of David's feet behind me.

"Ian! What's up with you?!" David yelled. _What?_ I thought confusedly.

I stopped and turned around. Then, mustering up the little amount of strength in my throat, I stuttered out, "Are... Are you mad?"

He looked at me with furrowed eyebrows. "Mad? About what?"

It took me a second, but I finally realized that it was all in my mind.

_Damn it_, I thought. _I really thought the mind games had stopped_.

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><p><strong>AN: Ooh, what does Ian mean? *suspenseful music* Anyway, thanks for reading this chapter! I'm sorry it took me so long to start a new fanfiction, but I believe the wait might just have been worth it c;**

**I apologize for the lack of romance and fluff and the juicy goodness. I warn you, the story will be slow. I think. ._.**

**The next chapter will be up *hopefully* by next week! Cross your fingers~~ Pray to the internet gods that Ehtehkuh won't have a ton of homework that she procrastinated on to do next week.**

**Remember, you guys can PM anytime. I'm lonely :c Plus, I'm taking one-shot requests! (This doesn't count the requests I've gotten before. Sorry to whom it may concern.) Anyway, until then, this is Ehtehkuh, signing off. BYE~**

**(P.S. I'm mentioned in the Smosh Pit Weekly episode, "FLAPPY BIRD IS MINECRAFT." Try to find me!)**


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